


Naming

by lionoftarth



Category: Farseer Trilogy - Robin Hobb, Fitz and the Fool Trilogy - Robin Hobb, Realm of the Elderlings - Robin Hobb, Tawny Man Trilogy - Robin Hobb
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Conversations, Fix-It, Let the Fool be happy damn it, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, light retcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25495849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionoftarth/pseuds/lionoftarth
Summary: Slight canon divergence. Fitz, Beloved, and Bee soldier on after the events of Assassin's Fate. In the relative quiet, Fitz starts to examine his feelings.
Relationships: FitzChivalry Farseer/The Fool
Comments: 29
Kudos: 57





	1. Inklings

**Author's Note:**

> This is just my take on what might have been. I'm pretty new to this fandom, but I love these two with my whole heart.

As I walked into the kitchen in search of drink, I envisioned Molly near the counter. It had been years since I’d last seen her, but the expectation of her still lingered in the air. I shook the phantoms from my head, set my candle upon the table, and took a bottle of my favorite brandy from the cabinet.

When I turned back, the Fool leaned silently against the door frame. I managed not to drop the bottle though I could not suppress a small shudder of surprise.

“Bee’s fast asleep,” he offered as way of greeting.

I nodded in gratitude. It was not uncommon for her to wake screaming or for us to run to her room in panic. This time he had beaten me there, and I had left him to it. “Nightmare or a prophetic dream?” 

“Perhaps both.” Beloved removed two cups from the cabinet and sat down beside me. “I suspect I’ll get more from her in the morning.”

I put my head in my hands. “I had hoped she would be better by now."

He poured us both glasses. “She is," he reminded me firmly, "but it will take time. We of all people should know not to expect too much too soon."

I took the glass he offered and sipped it gratefully. “We of all people,” I repeated slowly, enjoying the warmth of the brandy. I chuckled. 

The Fool, watching me from his chair, raised an eyebrow at my mirth.

“I don’t know why I ever thought I could protect her." I shook my head at my own pride. "I couldn't even protect myself.”

He smiled wryly. “I’m afraid I’ve never been particularly skilled in that either.” He drained his glass and poured another.

“Molly was,” I remembered. “Or she learned to be. And you, at least, crested manhood before the nightmares started,” I credited.

The Fool fell quiet, staring at his glass as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

“Beloved?” He stiffened at the name and glanced around as if our daughter would materialize from the woodwork. Bee had never been comfortable with me uttering the Fool’s given name. Though she became reticent when questioned, I think she felt like it was a slight to her or Molly. “You told me she was fast asleep,” I reminded him.

“But she has my gift of appearing where she is least suspected,” he grinned, seizing the change of subject. “It makes me feel a tinge of sympathy for Wallace.” I raised my eyebrows in question. “Only a tinge,” he assured.

I refilled our glasses. “He deserved every ounce of torment that you wrought. He may not have killed the king but he was instrumental in his mistreatment.” I considered my scant memories of those days acquired through a haze of elfbark and angst. “I’m sorry that I was not more helpful to you then.”

He shrugged. “Toward the end, nothing made much difference for him. I wanted to believe that my king could be fixed, and I saddled you with hope and blame that weren't yours to bare. I’m sorry for it.” He sighed. “It seems odd to think how young we were.”

I stretched my hand across the table toward him. Instinctively, he took it into his. “You once said that he offered you a safe place after your crossing from Clerres.” I let the statement hang in the air before us.

Once again, the Fool drained his glass. “You’re referring to the last time you got me drunk looking for answers?” His smile was a deceptive one.

I squeezed his hand. “Yes.”

Instead of answering, he seemed to take in our surroundings for the first time, admiring the hanging pots. “You’ve a whole estate. A study of your own, where most men keep their brandy. Why is it that I always find you in the kitchen?”

I glanced around the familiar room, seeing it anew. “Habit I suppose. From my years at Buckkeep.” It had been a place of respite for me. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“You never asked one,” he replied reasonably.

“What happened on your journey to Buckkeep?” I had my suspicions on the subject, but he had never actually said.

He met my eyes. “You know already or you wouldn’t ask.”

I wasn’t surprised by his reticence. I knew nothing of the Fool that I hadn’t dragged out of him. “Hold your secrets if you need to, but if sharing them would ease your burden, I can help bare it.” There had been a time not so long ago when I had avoided his pain in fear of rearing my own. Now, they almost seemed to be one pain. We healed together or not at all.

His expression was hard to interpret as he considered my offer. Glancing over his shoulder, he set down his glass. “Not here then. No need to sully this place with maudlin tales.”

I took the bottle of brandy in one hand and lead him to my room with the other. We passed Bee’s door on the way and took a moment to look in on her. I have to admit that it was as equally motivated by paranoia as by paternal affection. Assured that she was at least in bed, if not asleep, we headed to my chamber.

We sat on the bed still holding hands. I feared that if I let go he would retreat from the story, so I laid down the brandy and trapped his other hand as well.

He inhaled slowly. "You take my secrets from me one by one, Fitz. Soon I will have nothing left that is just my own." I wasn't sure how to respond to that so I stayed silent. When he pulled his hands back, I reluctantly let them slide through mine. “There’s not much to the tale that you haven’t already inferred. After I ran away, I got passage to the Six Duchies pretending to be a slave.” I refilled both our glasses waiting patiently. “Despite my appearance, with a painted tattoo I was almost invisible.” I frowned at the risk. “I had no food. No money. And most other paths lead in the wrong direction. The tattoo declared me off limits to anyone looking to newly indenture me.” I waited for the rest of the story. “At first, I spent most of my time doing odd jobs around the ship. It was hard, unforgiving work and I was as just as likely to get a slap as a piece of bread at the end of the day.” He took a drink. “But then I started to catch some of the men’s eyes. One of the officers cornered me one night after a bad storm. The entire crew had been busy and on edge. He saw me scurrying on the deck and followed me below.” He paused, and I longed to touch him again. To offer some comfort.

“Beloved...” I started, but we both knew I didn’t know what to say. I felt sick to my stomach as my blood coursed with useless anger.

“I was badly used, and not alone in it. I became quite deft at hiding and slipping chains, but that didn't help the others.”

I laid my hand down on the bed between us in offering.

“It’s funny how many tortures there are.” He gave a crooked smile. “And if anyone should know...” I sometimes wondered if anyone else in the world had experienced as much pain as my Fool. But I doubted anyone else could have survived to endure it all. His White blood had been his savior and his damnation. “I have never been much of a fighter, but with my insight I could have been a wonderful assassin." He sent me a look. "A couple of words to the right person and I set off a chain of events that lead to his death.”

My professional curiosity was peaked. "How?"

He shook his head rather sadly. "Not everyone fogs me as you do, Fitz. I implied that he cheated at cards to a certain member of the crew. They did my dirty work for me, smothering him in his sleep. The crew threw his body overboard the next day, and no one asked questions." He closed his eyes. "I'm not proud of it. I still shudder of the ramifications. There are people that do not exist today because of what I did then." Despite his words he took my hand again.

I was grateful for the contact. “And probably many more that do." He looked away from the comfort that I offered. "Did you know what would happen before you boarded?” I asked softly, absently running my thumb along his hand as if stroking a spooked horse.

He considered his words. “I knew that I would face hardship.”

I remembered how young the Fool had been when I had first spied him. I sipped brandy from my glass. “Was that your first experience?”

He took my meaning. “Despite the Servants best efforts.” The Fool grimaced and then glanced away from me. “Nor have I participated since.”

Oddly, I felt relief warring with pity inside me. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed at my failed attempt at comfort. “It’s not your fault, Beloved.” He touched my face almost clumsily.

“Would you like to sleep here tonight?” I asked companionably. It would not be the first time we had shared a bed since arriving at Withywoods. Though Molly had died some time before I last left, as soon as I’d crossed the threshold of the house again, I’m felt her loss anew. Grieving, I had made use of the secret passage that ran through the house. I had told myself I was going to check on Bee, but my traitorous feet had continued to his door.

“So willingly you take me to your bed.” The implication had not occurred to me. I stilled, blushing under his amused gaze, which pleased him even more. Despite the fact that I knew he would never take anything I didn’t freely give, I grew uncomfortable with his attention. “No, I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll sleep alone tonight. Not yet though.” His fingers slid from my cheek, and I finished the brandy in my cup.“Tell me something good that happened today.”

Surprised by his almost jovial nature, I obliged him with talk from the new stables.

Long after he’d left for the night, I was still turning over our conversation. I should have been concerned that Beloved was a more competent assassin than I had ever been. I should have been thinking about what that meant for Bee. Yet, I tabled that issue for another.

His last confession echoed in my thoughts. I remembered our argument in Buckkeep as if it were branded into my soul, and had often ruminated on the boast he had made that he had taken others to his bed. I had wondered who it had been, and what they had meant to him. I should have been glad of it, but for some reason it had burned me. The idea that anyone had had some part of him that I couldn’t share… Apparently, I needn’t have worried that he might love another more fully. Still, it made me sad to think that he might never fully experience that physical connection.

I remembered how I had been unable to restrain myself from Molly. I thought of our kisses and where that had led. Even now, mixed with loss, the thought of it was stirring. I reminisced on my time with Starling. The simplicity.

But Beloved had had opportunities to explore that realm if he’d wanted to, I reminded myself. Jofron had certainly loved him as had Garetha. Perhaps it wasn’t something he sought. I had almost convinced myself when I remembered the ardor of his kisses.

We had always insisted that our relationship was bigger than bedding. And it had been. But that wasn’t why we had never bedded each other. The Fool wouldn’t ask for what was not enthusiastically given. And I had not given. I had not given even a thought to it, despite the amount of times that we had been accused. Even as he watched me, I had not thought about it. Even as he kissed me, I had not thought about it. Even as we shared a bond of unity so strong it threatened to break me, I had not thought about it.

I had not thought about it so often that trying to think about it now was difficult. And yet...Perhaps in this case, I could provide him with an experience that no one else could. Let him finally feel pleasure at someone’s hands instead of torment. He deserved that.

He deserved more.


	2. If You Want

Some days later, we sat on the hearth of the fire, having carried Bee to bed. She no longer fell asleep there every night, but occasionally we still let her stay up as long as she could. To my relief and envy, she and Beloved had developed their own routine as she slowly accepted him. He was much better at making sure that she was physically well-kept than I had ever been.

“Beloved...” I stared into the fire unable to continue.

He smiled into my pause as if I’d lost my trail of thought instead of my nerve. “Beloved...” he prompted. 

“I’ve been thinking of what you told me the other night.” The smile slid from his face. “That you...”

He held up his gloved hand to stop me. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say, Fitz, but you needn’t. It happened long ago. There’s no need to dwell on it.”

He’d given me an easy out. I swallowed. “It’s something I need to say.”

“But I wonder, Fitz, is it something that I need to hear?” he countered. 

His words did little to caution me. “It bothers me that you’ve never...” Even at my age I felt my ears burn. “That you’ve never been with anyone.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Ah.” He turned his face toward the fire. 

I followed his lead. “I wonder is it for lack of desire or...something else?” 

His jaw clenched. “I can’t see where it’s your concern, Fitz.”

To that, I had no real answer, but I tried. “I can’t help but feel...responsible,” I whispered. Like Nighteyes, he'd given up so much.

This time, he spared me a glance. “I can’t think why.”

“Because...because of how you felt for me.” Even now I couldn’t use the present tense. 

“Fitz, we put this to rest years ago. I don’t blame you for not wanting to bed me. And I’d thought that you’d stopped blaming me.”

“I did,” I assured him quickly. “I’ve long ago accepted you as you are.”

He ached a brow. “Even Amber?” I hesitated, and he waggled his tongue at me as he used to do when I knew him only as the Fool. There was no one better at turning the tide of a conversation. Within seconds, he had swept us from his vulnerability to mine. 

“She made me...uncomfortable.”

He chuckled. “Of that, there can be little doubt.”

“But...” He frowned in confusion as I took his hand. “I have recently come to understand why.”

He sat still, with his legs pulled beneath him. “Her deceptions?”

Every aspect of Beloved had a complicated relationship with truth. The Fool had been just as deceptive. Lord Golden perhaps doubly so. “I think I was jealous.”

“Fitz,” the Fool shook his head in warning.

“Not in that way,” I objected. “I was friend to the Fool, and favored bodyguard to Lord Golden. As Amber, you led a whole other life,” I reminded. “And I wasn’t a part of it.”

He stared at his hands, considering what I had said before replying. When they came, his words were soft. “You always felt a part of it to me.”

“Perhaps because you carved my face into a ship,” I suggested, watching the light dance across his features.

He looked away sheepishly. “A puerile indiscretion.”

“You never did explain it,” I teased, glad to have the upperhand for once.

His expression was serious as he met my gaze. “Do you want me to?” 

Even now, I wasn’t sure I did. “We’ve gotten off track from what I wanted to say.”

He smiled as we found familiar ground. “Have we? Let’s have it then,” he accepted the redirection. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say...” My heart started hammering unexpectedly. “that I...I could bed you...if you want.” There was half a second in which he did not move, I did not think, and I’m not sure either of us blinked or breathed. 

Then Beloved pulled his hand away from mine. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I felt as if I’d been hollowed out. “What?”

He stood from the heath. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, Fitz, but you’ll understand if I won’t lower myself to it.”

Lower himself? I felt irrationally hurt. “But...” 

“Fitz, I love you with all of my heart, but I won’t bed you unless you wish to be bedded.” He lifted his brows in question.

I opened my mouth to speak but found myself unable. 

He nodded in confirmation. “I’m suddenly very tired.” He stood and stretched his long limbs, still catlike despite his age. “I think I will retire. Good night, Fitz.” He exited the room with a performer’s bow, leaving me alone to think by the fire.

For some reason, I felt stung by his refusal. I had gone out on a limb and offered myself to him, despite my previous objections. At the very least, he could have considered it.

_Did you listen to him? _I felt a rush of shame that Nighteyes, after a full week of silence, had chosen this moment to speak up.__

_I listened to his refusal._

_He told you what you had to do if you wanted to claim him as your mate._

_I never said he would be my mate_ , I scowled. 

_He said that he wouldn’t mate with you unless you wish it._

_I already offered him..._

_Pity_ , he interrupted my thoughts. _If you meant to offer him more, you should have said so. Why is this such a difficult thing to communicate? Better to be forthright, and tell him you wish to mount him._

I felt myself recoil from his words. _I don’t...It’s complicated._

_You forget that we still share a link, Changer, and you have long forgotten to guard against me._ With that, I felt him retreat. 

His words sat heavily in my stomach. 

I sighed. It had all seemed so reasonable before. A consolation prize for the man who had brought back dragons and taken down the Servants. An opportunity to share something with someone for the last time. A way to have him without admitting that I might...want him.

Did I want him? Nighteyes seemed to think so. But I did not wish to ‘mount him’ as Nighteyes had so crudely put it. I had never thought of him that way. And even in the last few days when I had deliberately thought of him that way, it had been for his sake, not mine. A test to see if I could bed him without shaming us both. A test that I had passed with...surprising ease.

I hadn’t recalled his kisses often in my life. In fact, I had nearly blocked them out entirely. Their memory made me uncomfortable in a way that discouraged examination. As if they were too secret to share even with myself. The feel of his lips. Of his love. The longing that had been poured into those brief exchanges. And I hadn’t stopped him. The second time I had been too overwhelmed with memories to be concerned with their delivery, but the first time...I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t reacted. I could say that I had been too shocked. But perhaps I had been...curious. What if he hadn’t spun away so quickly, leaving me bewildered in his absence? I felt a stirring that I instantly pushed away. 

And suddenly I realized that I had always pushed it away. More importantly, I realized that there was something to push. 

We’d always had a special bond more akin to the bond I shared with Nighteyes than anyone else, and yet...he had been in love with me. And knowing that...I had not been able to distance myself from him. Would I have let another man take the liberties that I had afforded him so eagerly? That he had afforded me. I had denied him in public even as I reached for him in private. There was a buzzing in my head that only lessened when he was near. That only fully disappeared when I could feel him. All those times that I had been comforted by his presence next to me...What had it been like for him? 

What had it been like for me? 

I remembered carrying his corpse for hours or days, talking to him. The utter desolation I had felt. The utter devotion. If I had seen someone else act that way I would have thought them mad. I suppose I had been mad. Mad with grief for my friend, that which made me whole. I remembered holding him close after I’d healed him. If he had sought more from me...would I have turned him away? I did not think so. I would not have caused him more pain. I would have returned his kisses without expectation. And then I would have slowly pulled us flush so that he could take from my strength. We would have ground into each other fully clothed so that he was still shielded from everything in the world but me. 

But he had not asked that of me. He never had. He never would. As he had said, he would not bed me unless I wished to be bedded. 

Swallowing, I considered Beloved’s full strength. 

His sacrifice. 

Him. 


	3. For me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late night visit

It had taken me several days to gather my courage, and if I had not felt increasing strain in my conversations with the Fool I might not have pursued the thought at all. Still, something had to be done so I waited anxiously until Bee was put to bed and all was quiet in the house.

I tracked him to his chambers, a setting that suited my needs. I had only ventured inside once or twice before, but I was eager to return. I had never met anyone else with his gift for making a space so completely their own. His touch could turn any room into a safe-haven. 

I knocked twice on the door before he answered. Even then he didn’t look happy to see me. “I was just dressing for bed,” he admitted, keeping the door mostly closed.

“This won’t take long. Can I come in?”

He sighed. “That depends on what you want.”

I showed him his own fingerprints. “To renew our bond.”

Despite himself, Beloved opened the door more widely. “To what end?” 

I shrugged, not quite pushing past him to enter the room. 

He closed the door slowly behind me as if he already regretted my intrusion, but I ignored his hesitation and added another log onto the fire. The room only offered one chair at his work bench so I sat upon his bed and proffered my wrist.

The Fool started fidgeting with his glove nervously as he watched me. “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Fitz.” It probably wasn’t. Even though a part of me had longed for it, we had not connected that way since we’d returned. “If this is about the other night, I haven’t changed my mind.” He continued watching me from afar.

I wanted to strip his hand and place his fingertips where they belonged, but instead I said. “Would you do this, please? For me?”

Beloved gave me a look that said he did not appreciate the dirtiness of that trick anymore than I did when he used it against me. Still, he took off his glove and sat down on the bed. “You’re sure?” At my nod, he carefully set his fingers to my flesh.

I felt the Fool shoot through me, and we were one again. A true joining. Every nook of my being exposed to him as his was to me. If we could do this more frequently the rest of it truly would be but plumbing. 

_What did you want to accomplish, Beloved?_ My being reverberated with his intent, with him. When we connected I understood him in a way that I could never quite hold on to once we were severed. It was like trying to remember pain. I knew that I had experienced it, but it was too overwhelming to fully recall. 

As if to recall it was to become it. 

_To show you this,_ I pulled my unspoken emotion forward. 

The next moment I was empty, sitting on the bed alone. My wrist still burned lightly from his touch. He stood by the door, holding it open for me. 

“Beloved...” I didn’t know how he recovered his senses so fast. Perhaps he never lost his at all. 

He would not look at me. “I won’t speak of this tonight.” I made no move to go. “Please, Fitz.”

I stood from the bed, utterly confused by his reaction. I had thought I could solve something, but I should have known better. He had always said there were no boundaries, but this wasn’t the first time he’d proven that a lie. It wasn’t the first time he’d turned away from me. I looked to him with accusation and anger. 

There was genuine pleading in his eyes when he repeated, “Not tonight.”

Having laid myself bare, all I could feel was shame. I left, and he was careful not to touch me as I passed.


	4. Unmake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family dinner sparks confrontation

We both did our best to avoid each other for the next several days. Unfortunately, this effort was often thwarted by circumstance. As we both abandoned our joint haunts we managed to run into each other in unexpected quarters, which lead to many muttered apologies and hasty retreats. And worse, we still had to sit down to meals with our daughter as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. 

Bee was not fooled. She glanced back and forth between the Fool and I as if we were holding a conversation. “Is something wrong?” she breached the silence.

“No,” we both chorused too quickly. 

Her eyes darted between us. “I have a right to know.” The anxiety was clear on her face. 

“Of course you do,” the Fool assured her. “We’ve just had a little spat is all. It’ll soon be behind us.” I nodded along, comforted by his words even though they were for Bee.

I could tell she did not quite believe us. “What was it about?” When the Fool didn’t answer she turned her unerring eyes on me.

I thought back to the last thing the Fool and I had differed over. We had not so much disagreed on the matter as agreed for different reasons. “Moving to Buckkeep.” We had stayed there for a time while Withywoods had been restored, but it had not taken long before we moved back. I felt that Bee needed protecting from Buckkeep, and the Fool had felt that Buckkeep needed protecting from Bee. It wasn’t time. She still had some childhood left to live, and I wanted her to experience it at Withywoods. The place had been my home. Where Bee was born. Where Patience had lived. Where Molly had died. 

“I won’t go back there.” 

“We aren’t. At least not anytime soon,” I amended. Eventually she would have to navigate the dangers of Buckkeep, but now she needed time to recover. For now, Beloved and I could provide that.

She sighed in relief. “Good. The noble children are even more monstrous than the ones here.”

The Fool nodded his head in agreement. “I know. They treat you just as their parents treated me.” I felt the sudden urge to throttle anyone who had so much as sneered at either of them. “But they are only partially to blame. They must mock anything different lest they be mocked themselves. Your best defense is to use that fear against them.” She eyed him wearily. 

“Or let me have a word with them,” I suggested. 

The Fool gave me a startled look that spoke more to his own experience than the conversation at hand. He frowned down at the table in thought.

“It’s not just that,” she groused, too engrossed in her complaint to notice our exchange. “It’s Nettle. She insists I be a ‘proper lady’ as though there was something wrong with Mother.”

Having heard this complain at least ten times before, I repeated. “There was nothing wrong with your mother, and Nettle knows that. Though I know you didn’t enjoy her instruction, she meant well.” Before she could argue further, I added, “Next time, we’ll be sure that Kettricken is in charge of your education.”

“Yes, I’m sure the Queen will be easier to please,” she muttered. It had taken time to admit that Beloved had played a part in a daughter that had so clearly belonged to Molly and I. Yet, it was so obvious now. Especially when she was upset. She had Molly’s temper, the Fool’s gift for cutting words, and my scowl. 

I was about to defend my friend when I saw the Fool smirk. “Perhaps not easier to please, but more sympathetic to your struggles as she was not always such a 'proper lady' herself. Did you know she poisoned Fitz the first time they met?”

She shook her head slowly.

The Fool nodded, knowing that he had caught his audience. “Quite purposefully too.” He took a bite of his food, chewing unhurriedly. I had sympathy for the war on Bee’s face as he baited her. She glanced at me, but I only shrugged.

“Why?”

“She thought he meant to assassinate her brother.”

Her eyes flicked to me so I added, “I didn’t. I only survived because the Fool had given me a remedy to the poison before I’d even left Buckkeep.” 

He chuckled, knowing that remedy was too kind a word. “The point is that you’ll have an easier time of it when we return to Buckkeep. Kettricken is a women of action, something I think you have in common. She’ll have sympathy to your differences. Nettle’s intentions were good and she is your sister, but as such your failures reflected badly on her, which I think added unnecessary tension to your tutelage.” I nodded in agreement.

Bee pushed food around her plate. “She didn’t believe that I could read.”

“But she does now,” he reminded. “And she loves you. You’ll have to get used to ignoring the judgments of others, Bee. Your White blood guarantees that you’ll mature at a slower rate than most humans, and your skin won’t change with the seasons. They can’t fully understand you, and some of them won’t even try.” He did not even mention her Wit sense, which marked her as even odder. “But if you’re patient you’ll find people who will strive to know the whole of you. People who will love you for it. As we do.”

Bee wasn’t happy with his impromptu lecture, but it did give her something to mull over for the rest of dinner. We finished eating to the clink of utensils. As Bee stood from the table to leave, she turned back to the Fool. Her parting words held all the confidence of an answered riddle. “Per loves me for it.”

As she left the room, The Fool and I exchanged a glance. “Something tells me I’m going to need to have a conversation with Per one day,” I muttered.

“Something tells me we should have a conversation with Bee soon. She is regrettably mature for her age. Do you know if she has been...educated in such matters?”

I shook my head. “Surely not. She was too young for Molly to have said anything, and I can’t imagine Nettle...” I stopped. Actually, I could imagine Nettle saying something while we’d been at Buckkeep. “Either way, it might bare repeating.” 

“Do you want to do it? You did raise her.”

I lowered my eyes in shame, knowing that Molly had done most of the raising. “You know more about the White lineage,” I countered. He frowned at that. “Perhaps we could do it together?”

“That’s the worst suggestion yet. It will be mortifying enough with just one of us. Flip a coin?”

It was the most we had spoken in days, and I found myself eager to prolong the conversation. “Tell me, will her...experience be any different from a nor...from a fully human woman's?”

He pursed his lips. “Not mechanically. Though it was not true in Clerres, I think her cycle will happen later in life as a consequence of her slow growth.”

“But that was not true in Clerres?”

He would not meet my eyes. “In order to breed more Whites, they would drug the food to quicken their viability. As far as I know, I am the only white that has matured without interference in some time.” 

I wished I had not asked. “Even having been there, there is a part of me that struggles to believe such a place could exist.”

We fell into silence. Virtue came to take our dishes, asking if we wanted more mead, which we both declined.

The Fool stood from the table. “I’ll talk to her. After all, it might feel hypocritical coming from you.” He meant to pass off the remark as a jape, but I could not let it go so easily. 

“What does that mean?”

He glanced around the empty room. “Nothing.” I waited. “Simply that you and Molly...got carried away when you were kids.”

I stood as well, placing both hands on the table. “We were in love.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t." He lowered his voice, but mirrored my stance. "Simply that your actions were rash.”

“That is what it is to be young.”

I saw him stifle his initial rejoinder before speaking. “Is that what you would tell Bee?”

“I...I will not have this conversation with you here. Especially when we both know what it is actually about.” I left the room and headed for my study. The Fool pushed in his chair and followed me.

“What is it actually about?” he demanded as soon as the door was shut behind him. 

“Your feelings for me,” I hissed.

His eyes narrowed. “I haven’t so much as mentioned them in twenty years, Fitz. What more would you have of me?”

“I would have all of you!” I burst out until my voice echoed against the shelves. Beloved froze in place as if stuck in time. “I...” I tried to recover myself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Especially that,” he mumbled, looking rather dazed. 

We were both still standing in the middle of the room. I felt that I should sit, but I wanted to be mobile. My heart beat too loudly. I leaned against my desk and watched him from a distance. “The other night...Why did you tell me to leave?”

He inhaled slowly. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

I felt his words like a wound. “You think it’s wrong?”

“Not the impulse, Fitz. The enacting of it. And not because we are men, but because of the men that we are. Being with you that way is like a dream. In my head it makes sense, it feels real. But if it were to happen outside of sleep, I would think I was losing my mind.”

“You’re not making sense.” I took a step towards him. He backed straight into the bookshelf as he’d forgotten it was there. “I don’t mean to corner you,” I explained, holding why hands wide in innocence. “But I would have you speak plainly. Do you not want me?”

He licked his lips. “That’s never been the problem.”

“Then what is?” I demanded. He looked at me almost pleadingly, but I did not relent. “Tell me.”

“Because you can’t admit what you want!” The words burst out like a breath he’d been holding in since we met.

I scowled. “I already have.”

He shook his head. “You said you’d do it if I wanted it,” he remembered. “Next, you risked the skill current to avoid having a conversation. And then you yelled at me in a fit of temper,” he continued over my protests. “Nothing has changed, Fitz. And I refuse to participate in something you’re not ready for. Don’t ask that of me.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” 

His gaze fell from me to the floor, as he muttered to himself, “I thought we were past this.” He started to pace. “Why now, Fitz? After so long.”

I sighed. “Initially, I was concerned that you gave up the chance for it. Like Nighteyes.” 

He rolled his eyes. “And yet I doubt you propositioned _him_.” 

“No,” I admitted, watching him. “But you asked what started it.”

He could only manage a few strides before he had to turn in the opposite direction again. Eventually, he slowed to a stop and considered me from across the room. “I can appreciate where this is coming from, Fitz, I can. But...I ask you to consider what people seek from ‘a mate’. Companionship. Stability. A child.” He looked at me beseechingly. “I have all those things. My needs are met.” 

“And you have no other needs?”

He sighed. “None that take president over our friendship.”

“It need not be one or the other.” He shook his head. “I want this, Fool. How can I convince you that I mean it?”

“Honestly?” I nodded encouragingly. “I don’t know, Fitz...I’ve been wrong about this more times than I care to admit.”

I felt myself cringing as I remembered flowers, snowy walks, and fireside confessions. I knew that any hesitation he felt was of my own making, and I intended to unmake it if given the chance. “If it’s not what you want, then tell me, and I’ll do my best to ignore the feeling as I have before.” He muttered something too low for me to hear so I continued. “Otherwise, let me show it to you.” 

The following silence filled the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger. I originally thought this would be four chapters. Then I realized that chapter four was going to be half the fic so...More to come


	5. Fitzchivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking leads to understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been playing with this for too long so I'm just going to reserve the right to make minimal adjustments later. Enjoy!

I took a hesitant step forward. For all his protests, he didn’t back away again as I approached him. His eyes fell closed as I placed a tentative hand on his cheek. He looked, for all the world, as if he were bracing himself for a blow. With utter care, I brought our lips together, feeling him shiver as I ran a hand across his lower back. The hand on his cheek slid to the back of his neck, teasing the shorter hairs there. I played with his lower lip, massaging his back until he stifled a groan. Letting my other hand trace the contours of his chest, I leaned back to watch his face. “I want to know every part of you.”

I watched a flush spread across his fine cheeks. Finally, his eyes came open. “Y...you make a convincing argument,” he admitted, smiling faintly. “But...”

“But?”

He licked his lips. “What of Molly?” I took a step back from him in confusion, wondering if he had meant to hurt me. “I know that I am not taking you from her,” he assured me, “But neither am I sure that I can so gracefully accept second place.”

“Fool,” I gripped his chin to make sure he felt the admission as much as I did. “You were never second.”

“I was there, Beloved...”

“I offered to leave with you!” I burst out, letting him go. How many times had that offer haunted me as I courted Molly? Knowing that I’d almost left my life, my responsibilities, my children behind to follow him. Knowing that I wouldn’t have regretted it. “I chose you, and you severed us.”

He flinched. “Because it was not meant to be.”

“You don’t know that! You talk of me not being ready, but you’re the one who left. You’re the one who hesitates now.”

“You say that as if you chose this long ago, Fitz, but you didn’t. If you had left with me, we would have both gone without 'mates'.”

“You dont know that to be true,” I countered.

He gave me a skeptical look. “You had 30 years to accept this, Fitz! And you knew how I felt most of that time even if you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it.” 

I could not fathom his objections. “What does all that matter now? We can not change what’s past. _This_ is the only place we can move from.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s easy for you to dismiss. You never had to face competition for my affections.” But I had felt the sting of jealousy.

“You had other options as well.”

“No, _I_ never had a choice in this!”

I felt as though he’d struck me. I knew it was my turn to spout anger, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. His words had struck me at my weakest point, and I was undone.

At my lack of response, he grew concerned. “Fitz?”

I dropped into a chair.

“Fitz?”

“You could leave,” I muttered toward the ground. I wasn’t sure if I meant the room or the house. One was more true than the other. He couldn’t leave Bee. Once again, he was tied to me through no will of his own.

Slowly he came to stand by my chair. “Do you want me to?” I could hear pain in his voice. I hadn’t meant to cause it.

I managed to look at him, feeling every one of my years. “I doesn’t matter what I want. It never has."

He dropped to his knees beside my chair and held my gaze. “Of course it has. You shaped this world with your intentions. With your love of Molly, and Verity, and...”

“ _You_ ,” I interrupted.

“Yes,” he admitted, lowering his gaze.

He look the opportunity to openly watch him. “You might not have had a choice before, but you have one now.” He stayed quiet under my gaze. “You once said that if your fate had to be entwined with anyone’s you were glad that it was mine.”

His cheeks colored again, and I thought I detected a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Why is it that you’re never so drunk as I am?”

“But what would you have done if you had been free of this fate entirely?”

The Fool frowned. “I cannot imagine such a path.” He looked up at me with eyes of golden brown. I understood something then that I had not before. His own life had never been his to lead. He had lived the lives of the Fool, Lord Golden, and Lady Amber instead. Changing clothes and skin and manners with them. Owning only what they might have owned. Except for my earring.

“I can imagine it,” I continued to answer my own question. “You would have been a carpenter finer than any before you. And you would have lived in the South, where the cold never reaches. You would have met someone who was so intrigued by your wit and style that they followed you wherever you went. You would have made a home for yourself that welcomed all who entered it, though you would have been picky about who crossed the threshold. You would have been safe and content, and you would have used whatever influence you had garnered for the betterment of others.”

He slid his hand into mine. “And the dragons would have died. And the Servants would have ruled. And the world would have descended into madness. I’ve seen it, Fitz.” He brushed a thumb over my cheek. “If I had been presented with a choice against the life you describe, I would still choose to walk this path with you.”

I turned my face away from his caress. “But not for my sake.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I have admitted that to you before. I can’t argue against it so I’ll just say this.” He squeezed my hand. “There is a dark and dangerous part of me that wishes dearly that we had never parted. A part that doesn’t care that the Servants would still reign, that Molly might have raised her children alone, that...that Bee would not exist.” He closed his eyes. “You have been and always will be my greatest temptation, FitzChivalry. For as long as I have known you, I have been forced to choose between what I _know_ to be right and what I _feel_ to be right. To have chosen you over the world would have betrayed all that I am. And you have no idea how often I struggled against that choice.”

I wiped an errant tear from his cheek. “Is that why you hesitate even now?”

His eyebrows lifted slightly at my insight. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “I need you to understand that keeping you for myself, would have had unthinkable ramifications for untold souls.”

I nodded in trepidation. “And now?”

“Now...” he took a steadying breath and met my gaze with a trace of hope. “Maybe it doesn’t.” I pulled him with me as I rose from my chair, putting us close. He spoke softly, but I felt his every word. "How seriously do you intend this, Fitz?"

I swallowed. "Very."

“And when Bee hears of it? When Buckkeep does?” He stared at me rather intently. "We walk a line here.”

“It’s not as if people don’t already think it, and we will be cautious. As for Bee, hopefully one day she’ll understand.” I took a breath, meeting his gaze. “Have I convinced you, now?" I asked quietly. "Have I finally won an argument?”

His lips twitched as he glanced down. “A humbling thought.”

I pulled him so that he was flush against me. “I think...I wanted to do this for far longer than I care to admit,” I confessed into his ear, kissing the sharp edge of his jaw. Having examined my behavior towards him in the last week, the conclusion was unavoidable.

“You have,” he assured me unthinkingly, his fingers learning the curve of my back.

I leaned away, gazing at him in question.

“I...I could feel it through our bond.”

“You knew all this time?”

He nodded, lightly tracing a gloved hand over my arm until I shivered. “But don’t think that it was an advantage I had over you. It only ever complicated things. Did you never question why I thought you were bringing me flowers.”

I had questioned that actually. I had thought him rather mad. “But you never said anything?”

“What good would it have done either of us when you could not see it?”

It was a good point. Such a good point that I could not follow it. And yet...I could not help but think on the times that the Fool had flirted with me in a new light. All the things that he had said. All the possibilities that I had shunted aside. “You see the branching of events, don’t you? That’s a trait that you and Bee share?”

He nodded, still running a hand over my arm and shoulder as if he couldn’t believe he was allowed. “And did you ever see us...this...in those possible futures?” When he stilled completely, I knew I had stumbled upon a secret. “Beloved?”

There was another pause before he admitted, “yes.”

“But it never came to pass?”

“It is as I have said.” He stared at my collar bone. “Any path that lead to this ended in devastation for the world.”

“So you made sure it never came to pass,” I clarified.

He shook his head. “I can arrange events to promote or prevent certain outcomes, but the ultimate decision was with you.”

That line, as ever, did not sit well with me. “When did you ‘arrange’ these events?”

His eyes begged me to let it lie. “Why does it matter if they never happened?”

“Because they could have.”

He shook his head at me. “That is the quickest path to madness.”

I knew he was fully capable of speaking in circles until sunrise. As he did not seem inclined to indulge my question, I tried to answer it myself. When would I have been most open to the idea? When I been most vulnerable to his attentions? When he had seemed odd or unusually distant or irritated? And suddenly I knew with perfect clarity. “Starling.”

He flinched.

“You sent Starling to me after I was Verity.” I still found myself unable to properly describe that desecration. “I was surprised that you suggested she find me instead of coming yourself.” He said nothing. “What would have happened?”

“Does it matter now?” he asked again with a sigh.

“I suppose it doesn’t, but it bothers me that you have a memory of us, or more than one, that I know nothing about.”

“It’s not a true memory.” He gently tugged on my hands to guide me toward the couch. We sat facing one another and holding hands as we had before.

“Tell me what might have happened if you had come.”

“If I had come...you would have found comfort in me instead,” he replied simply.

“How so?”

His lips twitched. “You ask that even now?”

“I meant,” I felt myself blushing. “How did it happen?”

“It didn’t.” At my look of irritation, he continued, “There were many paths, Fitz. I...We would have been huddled close. Not speaking. And I would have caught a tear as it ran down your cheek, and muttered comfort into your ear.”

“What would you have said?” I interrupted, realizing that I needed to hear it even now.

He met my gaze. “How I felt. That it wasn’t your fault or something that you deserved. That Verity had used you badly to achieve his end. As he ever had. As I ever had. That Molly and Burrich both loved you dearly. As they ever had. As I ever had.” He swallowed. “And as you suffered, I would have kissed your forehead to make you feel safe, then your nose to make you feel loved, and then your lips to make you feel wanted. You would have followed me when I pulled back, chasing the sensation, and then frozen like a statue as you came back to your senses. You would have started to pace for an interminably long time, neither leaving nor staying, before I caught your hand and apologized, promising to pretend it never happened. You would have stared at my hand and run your thumb across my knuckles. When I tried to pull away you would have held firm. And meeting my gaze you would have muttered “I don’t feel myself, right now.” And I would have replied, “Be whoever you need to be. I won’t hold it against you.” And, starved as you were, you would have taken everything that I could give.”

I squeezed his hand. “And that would have ended the world as we knew it?”

“Not immediately, but yes.”

“So instead you sent Starling to me knowing what would happen?”

“It was for the best. I think you needed someone human in your time of hiding, while Kettricken and I were called elsewhere. And in retrospect, I needed to work on Girl-on-a-dragon.” The fact that my love life could have such an effect on the world sent a chill down my spine. I suddenly understood more of Beloved’s restraint. His reluctance to affect anything he could not envision. Even his adherence to his path over his own desires.

I ran a thumb over his cheek. “I’m not sure it had the same effect. I told her I didn’t love her right before it happened.”

His expression was neutral, but his eyes were downcast. “You didn’t feel the need to clarify that with me.”

“With you,” I dipped my head to catch his gaze, “it would have been a lie.”

His eyes glistened once more. “There is a part of me that doesn’t believe this is real. I feel as though you’ll wake up tomorrow and resent me for taking advantage.”

I kissed him then, only pulling back to mutter, “I can not believe that I was so blind to you for so long.” When I thought of all the times I had unabashedly stared at the light dancing on his cheeks... How often had I complained of his gaze when, all the while, I had been watching him just as intently...

He took the comment more seriously than I had intended it. “It wasn’t entirely you, Fitz. Events had to play out very specifically for us to accomplish what we did, and your feelings would have complicated it. Our odds of success increased as you grew more resolved against me.”

I tried to think back to our childhood. “What did you do to strengthen that resolve?”

"In our youth, I avoided you,” he assured me. “Though I was not always as successful as I might have hoped. Like after I was beaten.” I remembered that meeting with shame. “I should not have gone to you at all, but I had to ask about Molly...No,” he paused, “that was the lie I told myself. I went there because it felt safe.” His eyes held me in unspoken accusation.

I flinched. “I’m sorry, Fool. I was out of my mind.”

“Exactly why I should not have been there,” he agreed. “You also stroked my face and asked me to remove my shirt. Twice.”

“Innocently,” I protested.

“To you, perhaps,” he scoffed. "Though I have my doubts." 

I relived those moments as he mentioned them. “What else?”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Enough of this, Fitz. There is no point in dwelling on what could not have been.”

I did not wish to provoke his frustration at the expense of his ardor so I reluctantly relented. “Fine, but eventually I will want it all from you. To see more of your side of it. Your restraint. Your dedication to a world that has shown you little mercy.” I met his gaze so he would know that I meant it.

He looked away. “There is one more that...I think I owe it to you before you laud me further. It was after our argument...when you carried me into my room. You held a cold compress to me and as I woke I saw the branching of events. One of them led to our bedding, but it was what came after that I choose not to think on.” He avoided looking at me all together.

“Devastation?” I surmised.

Slowly, he shook his head. “Forgive me, Fitz, but no. It would have changed nothing that I could see.”

I frowned. “But you threw me out.”

He gripped my hand more firmly as if he were afraid I would retract it. “I was angry with you. At the things you said. That you didn’t want me.” He swallowed. “I was hurt, and I wanted you to feel it.” He met my eyes. “I’m sorry for it.”

My chest seized for a moment. I wanted desperately to make it okay. I wanted to forgive him. Or better yet, assure him that there was nothing to forgive, but I…couldn’t.

I said nothing. What was worse...I wasn’t sure why.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “Both for turning you over then and trying to hide it now. Whatever you are thinking, Fitz, please know this,” He caught my gaze with an intensity I had rarely seen. “I love you now as I always have. I tried to be detached, to convince myself that you were nothing but a pretty face. A tool to be utilized as I had been taught. But then you looked into my room and recognized me there...and I...I can’t tell you what that meant. You see, I had not decorated that room as your Fool as I should have, I had decorated it as a lost child. At first with whatever I could find to comfort me, but then with careful cultivation. I laid my soul bare in that room. And you saw me there.” He swallowed. “Since that moment I have been hopelessly in love with you. And I do mean hopelessly.” He gave me a weary smile. “I need you to _know_ that. More than that, I need you to believe it. To trust it.” His last plea lodged in me like an arrow to the back as he surrendered to me, mine to raze or rise. I could not enjoy that power that I wielded over him. Instead, I stood from the couch, and he watched me as I paced.

“It is easier said than done,” I muttered.

“Is it?” He might have been looking at a starving child. “I know you have walls, and I know your reasons for them. That I am one of those reasons,” he sighed. “Had I been able to...well, I suppose that it what confuses you. I claim that I would have chosen you if I had been able...and then give you evidence of the opposite.” As he spoke the words I knew them to be true.

“Yes. I believe what you said, Fool, but I cannot pretend that it reliefs the sting.”

His lips twitched. “So you will deny me because I have hurt you?” He quested, meeting my eyes in amusement. “That is something I can understand.”

Him and his damned tongue. I knew I was defeated. From the expression on his face, he knew it as well. “I am thinking it over.”

He relaxed back into the couch throwing an arm across his eyes with a dramatic flourish that belonged entirely to the Fool. “Then we may be here all night.”

I smiled despite myself. “That’s not fair.”

He peeked at me under his arm before sitting up straight. “Oh, Beloved, all is fair in love and war,” he reminded. “And I’m so tired of war.”

My smile returned. “And that sentiment is beneath you.”

I saw wit spark in his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak, but he slowly shook his head instead. “You make it too easy, Fitz.”

I laughed. “No one has ever said that to me before.” His grin widened. His once boyish face had settled into maturity, and his skin had started to regain it’s golden tint. His weak form was brimming with life and joy once again, and I felt an ache in my chest to see it. He was so beautiful that the words left my mouth before I could think better of them.

He raised his eyebrows, glancing down at himself in approval. “I am far from what I used to be.”

I shook my head. “More weathered perhaps, instead of doll-like. I can picture you riding up to my cabin on Malta as if it happened yesterday. You struck such a figure that I thought any man would feel a drop in their stomach just to look at you.”

His smile turned as soft as his utterance. “Oh, Fitzy-Fitz.”

“It wasn’t really until I saw you as Amber that I recognized the feeling. When others not only assumed our relationship but approved of it. It was odd to think that it was possible only when you were in character.” He opened his mouth. “I know that Amber is a part of you,” I hurried on, “but I do not want to settle for a part of you. Any part of you. Not even my Fool." His eyes went wide. "I want everything that you are. Everything you're willing to give." I held his gaze. "My heart is yours, FitzChivalry, if you'll have it.”

I heard his breath catch in his throat, and saw his eyes glistening again. Speechlessly, he slid his hand into mine, and this time he brought our lips together. His kiss was more urgent than mine had been. I kissed him back, pouring of all my love and hurt into him as he had once poured it into me. I gave him my hope and my shame. My companionship and my loneliness. My pain and my joy. As our skill bond sung softly, I gave him everything that I was until I could no longer tell where I ended and he began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It irks me that Fitz never called him Fitzchivalry to his face. So I did it here. 
> 
> Also there will be no smut both because I'm incapable of writing it and because Beloved's ambiguity is important to me. (I like that he can be so many things for so many people.)


	6. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The problem with writing is that it's never done. Still, I wanted to finish this in a reasonable amount of time so here it is.

Not for the first time I woke up to find the Fool curled beside me. Half asleep, I could feel his heat radiating towards me. I drew him closer to enjoy his newfound warmth. It was only when the last vestiges of sleep left me that I realized something was amiss.

I shook his shoulder gently. “Are you alright?”

He did not respond. 

“Beloved,” I shook him again until he groaned. “Beloved.” I kept my hand on his shoulder. “How do you feel?”

“Like some imbecile is shaking me.” He pulled the blankets closer, shivering slightly. 

“You’re warm,” I explained, ignoring the complaint. “I think you have a fever.”

He quieted at my observation and shifted experimentally. “Hmm.” I swore I could hear the scrape of his eyelids as they opened. “Is there any more water?” he rasped.

We had finished it the night before. “I’ll get some.” I started gathering my clothes from about the room. “You should have told me last night if you were not feeling well,” I rebuked. 

“I felt fine last night,” he recalled dazedly. “Better than fine.” 

The wolf in me was satisfied, but the human could not ignore the implication. If he had been fine before we came together...“Do you think we caused this?” It would not be the first time his White blood had taken us both by surprise.

“Possibly.” He smiled vaguely at my frown, but sitting up took him far longer than it should have. “It feels like my changing.” 

I froze, unsure what that meant for us. Was he still the White Prophet? Was I still his Catalyst? Would he abandon our daughter? Would he ask me to? “Does it mean that you have more to do?”

He heard the concern in my voice and paused to think before he answered. “It doesn’t feel that way. It feels smaller. Easier. Like directing the horse instead of pushing the carriage." I did not understand. "Like, for the first time, my life is mine to choose," he explained then grimaced. “Though I suppose it’s not the first time.” I watched him shake his head at the thought. "To better answer your question, Fitz, I dont think it will ever be as it was before. I think that now I must shape the world as anyone does. By living my life largely blind to all else. And I will continue to darken, much as Prilkop did.” He briefly examined his skin before turning his gaze back to me. "Which means that while what you and I did last night has changed much for us, that is _all_ it has done."

"That is a relief." Even then, I felt myself distrusting the story he wove. Perhaps I always would. Years from now, if I slipped away quietly in my bed with Beloved at my side, it would be the sheer shock of it that actually killed me. “I hope you are right.”

He gave me a small smile. “Me too. I should probably head back to my own room now. Before anyone notices I’m gone.” 

Despite his words, he did not move. Something inside me grated at him leaving my bed less fit than when he entered it. “You’re sick. You should stay here.”

He raised his eyebrows, pushing himself up again. “I’m quite capable of walking. I once climbed a mountain in this condition if you recall.”

“I recall you fainting in the middle of a landslide,” I scoffed. 

“Something that’s unlikely to recur,” he pointed out. “And mores the pity, for there was a certain thrill to being carried in your arms.” His smile belonged to the boy he had been. 

“I’m afraid I can’t recall it with the same fondness.”

“I suppose it was rather harrowing,” he agreed, watching me. His whole face softened. “But you managed it without so much as loosening your grip. Even once we were safe, they had to pry me away from you.” 

I had felt like he might die the moment I let go. “Such is the case now.”

He gave me a fond look. “Then you may carry me to my own bed and tend to me from there. Fetch my clothes?” They were scattered about my room as mine had been. I struggled not to blush as I remembered their removal. 

“Water. Clothes. Carrying. Will you be this demanding every time I bed you?” 

He settled into the covers like a spoiled cat. “Just be thankful I don't require your chamber pot.” In response, I threw his shirt and pants on top of him. When he had finished dressing, I helped him from my bed and moved to pick him up. He batted my hands away with a grin. “Thank you, but I’ll manage.” As we made our way into the passage I had to admit that carrying a full grown man through its narrow halls would have been difficult. Still, I was ready to catch him should his wobbly legs give out. 

He stopped so suddenly at the entrance to his room that I almost ran into the back of him. He pointed directly across the chamber to the mantle. “I'd also forgotten. I made you something." I followed his gesture over his shoulder and saw the outline of a wooden figure. “I wasn’t sure who it was when I started, but it became more obvious as I went.” The hesitation in his voice made me burn with curiosity. "You should take it."

In spite of my eagerness, I saw him to his bed before turning to examine his new gift. The carving was so immaculately done that it seemed to come to life as I approached it. It was a small figurine of Molly rocking a babe in her arms. She appeared as Beloved had never actually seen her, a woman of many years. Her hips appeared to sway from side to side as she cooed adoringly down at a tiny Bee. 

I picked it up, turning the smooth wood over in my hands. The weight of it was perfect in my grasp. As solid as she had been. When my fingers traced the bottom, I felt a disruption in the otherwise smooth surface. Flipping is over, I found an inscription. _Molly Farseer._ I felt tears sting my eyes at the name she had never borne. 

I set the carving back on the mantle for safe keeping, and turned to the Fool. He had been watching my reaction intently. “It’s...” I met his gaze as my words failed me. “Thank you.” 

He inclined his head in acceptance. “I had considered making one for Bee as well, but I don’t think she would accept it from me.” He met my gaze in vague question. 

“One day,” I agreed, tucking him into bed and making sure that he had water within reach. “I’ll eat with her before I fetch you breakfast. Do you need anything?” 

He shook his head, watching me through the haze of his fever. 

I took the carving of Molly from the mantle to take with me. “I shall keep her next to Nighteyes so they may know each other better,” I told him.

“I’m glad,” he muttered, his eyes drifting closed. 

I couldn’t keep myself from placing a kiss upon his brow as I passed. He sighed contentedly, and I left him to his rest.

After I had seen Bee off to her education, I asked our cook to put a plate together for the Fool and wandered into the garden to wait. It was peaceful there. I let my mind drift from the familiar sounds of chopping wood and neighing beasts to the flowers that surrounded me. I took note of the first blooms and picked the one I liked best. When I went back inside to retrieve the tray for the Fool, I found it piled high with food.

At my raised eyebrows, my cook shrugged. “He’s still too thin, that one.” 

I grinned. “I’ll be sure to tell him so.” 

“While you’re at it, you might mention that my Humble won’t go anywhere without that new puppet,” she threw over her shoulder. “Might cheer him to hear.”

“I’ll pass it on.” I took my leave, smiling at how quickly and completely he had won her over. Had won them all over. He was fitting well here. With us. Even Bee had failed to hide her concern when he'd missed breakfast and seemed relieved when I had assured her he just needed rest. 

Weary of my aches, I climbed the stairs and made my way to his chamber. Just outside the door, I took the hidden bloom from my sleeve, set it on his tray, and knocked on the door of my Beloved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have very complicated and mixed feelings about how the series ended so I wrote this.   
> (Sidenote: I don't feel like women in the Six Duchies actually change their last names (or like...have them sometimes) but it was the acknowledgement that she married (and was important to) Fitzchivalry Farseer and not Tom Badgerlock that I was going for. )  
> I hope this work brought you some joy. I certainly enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments and kudos are always cherished.


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